One Night in Paris

Tonight I had the distinct pleasure of enjoying the sort of intellectually stimulating evening that I savor when I attended a sold-out lecture by French philosopher Bernard Henri-Lévy at the 92nd Street Y, at the invitation of the charmant, as Dana would say, Andrew Krucoff. Henri-Lévy cuts a dashing presence, leaving everyone in his wake discussing how sexy he is, even the boys. Everyone says it's the extra button undone on his tieless white shirt worn with black suit and a slightly disheveled air, but that's not it. Breathlessness aside, I was struck by how remarkable it would be to give a powerful oratory address in a language that is certainly not one's first, perhaps not even second. Widely traveled in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Israel, Morocco and the Middle East at large since 2001, he focused on the contemporary political world stage and theories of war as well as the dangers of fanatacism, cynicism and everything in-between in a historical context. It was a beautifully structured and affecting talk that ended with a dedication to victims of Armenian genocide, as well as a call to form alliances with the unpowerful of the world... "Burundi, Rwanda, Sudan, Colombia, Chechnya... we are in the same boat." At the reception afterwards I chatted with long-time pals like Sarah, Ed and Ron, and admired Isabella Rossellini and Daphne Guinness from afar. And no fewer than five people told me that they plan to attend Upstairs at the Square next week! Perhaps best of all, though, BHL himself came by to say hello when I was chatting with the editor of Guernica and a friend, and so we met. All was charmant.

Previously: C'est French, c'est fatal.

Comments

[maitresse]

J'en rêve! qu'il est sexy... he's a bit of a joke in certain crowds here but I don't care.

Have you read his daughter's book, Nothing Serious? It's super good.